More Blog Nonsense and Holiday Happenings

After a short holiday of only 10 days, I am back at school, ready for term 3 to take off. It’s not so much a take off as it is like the equivalent of a chicken trying to launch itself off the ground with a 10 pound weight attached to it’s bottom.

Mull that over.

I expect all of the learners will not be back at school until next week. Until then, my job is to find something constructive to do with the 5 kids that are in each of my classes.

But let’s back up the train here.

August Holiday: n. 1. a time period in which as soon as you realize you are in fact on holiday it is time to return to your un-holiday filled life for the next 3 months. 2. A period in which you get out of Opuwo and eat any food item that you cannot find in Opuwo, regardless of whether you like it or not. But hopefully you do like it. Because otherwise that would be ridiculous. Which I never am.

For my August holiday, some friends and I returned to Swakopmund and Hentie’s Bay. The coast of Namibia.

Here, look at this map.

(Hentie's Bay is very close to Swakopmund and Walvis Bay)

What did we do on the coast?

No skydiving this time. But equally as liberating.

I enjoyed good company for a whole 10 days. I ate (sushi, nachos, pizza, burgers, seafood, fake African-like bagels, real coffee, pasta, cake, the list goes on…that’s actually pretty horrifying.). I shopped for things I can’t find in Opuwo. I behaved like a human for once. We went to the beach (even though it was freezing). We watched TV (crazy talk). We attached a piece of conveyor belt to the back of a bakkie and towed people around in the sand (I had sand in my hair for 2 days). And I learned to speak fluent Afrikaans.

I’m lying to you.

I did not learn Afrikaans. 

(I did, however, learn how to say “twee sebras,” which means “two zebras.” Which I learned from an interactive children’s pop-up book.)

But learning Afrikaans is on my to-do list. Along with “shower more,” “start running daily,” and “stay relatively sane for the duration of term 3.”

In other thrilling news:

I just ate a slice of cheddar-flavored, low-fat processed cheese. Individually wrapped. And I enjoyed it.

It wasn’t even cheddar. It was flavored to trick people into thinking it’s cheddar.

My family would be horrified.

I am horrified.

Why am I telling you about cheese?

(And why do I keep asking questions when it is, in my opinion, a horrible rhetorical device?)

Well, it caused me to wonder…if I were to go back to the states now, exactly as is, what would people think of me?

Let me paint you a picture of my current state.

My hair is grimy, and my feet, legs, and hands are covered in dirt. This is usual. I’ve put on a bit of weight (especially after eating my way around Swakopmund for 10 days). I’m wearing my glasses because it’s too dusty for contacts. My shirt has 2 holes in it. I say weird things like “I’ll make a turn that side” and “now now,” and I no longer bother to show up for things at their starting time. Things that should bother me don’t, and things that shouldn’t bother me do. I wake up between 4:30 and 6:00 during the week and go to sleep at 9. I’ve grown accustomed to instant coffee, and I no longer check to see if my milk has gone sour before I pour it in my cup of joe. Also, I just ate an unidentifiably aged piece of cereal that I found in my bed covers.

Actually that last one is normal. 

I’m sure I’ll bounce back to living like a presentable human when need be, but I’ll tell you something for free. I’m a bit concerned about my present state of being. Let’s just say if you were to videotape my daily life, I’m not sure if it would be a comedy or a tragedy.

It would, however, be damn interesting. And I think that is what we should take away from this valuable sharing session.  

As usual, if you would like to contribute to my kitchen project (see this post), there is a donate button at the bottom of my blog. Thanks!

Water of Love

We use it to drink. To bath. To cook. To clean. To swim in. To make energy. To hydrate our plants and animals. To pour down the pants of unsuspecting people. The list goes on.

It is made of two glorious elements. Hydrogen and oxygen.

It is not made of “salt” and “desk”, as was written by one of my learners on his science exam.

It is water. And it is a great thing.

Now.

Namibia is a dry country. Many regions are composed of flat dry plains, savannahs, and deserts. Sand dunes up the wahzoo.

Namibia is also in a drought. The worst drought since what I have been told to be the 40s. Whether that information is credible, I do not know. That could be made up. I am not a journalist. But it is the worst in a very long time.

What does this mean exactly? Well, it’s dusty and dry. And everything is a lot more beige now.

What it also means is that there is a lack of water in the taps and food on the table. Many people in Namibia make their living from subsistence farming. They have their land. They grow their food. They eat their food. They keep goats, sheep, and cattle to eat and to sell. These animals wander all over the place to graze during the day. In random fields, across the road, on school grounds, in the bathroom.

No, really. I found a cow in the toilets the other day.

So, there is very little water. The plants are dead. The rivers are dry. This means crops aren’t growing well, and the livestock are dying. It’s common to see dead donkeys, goats, and cows in the streets of Opuwo. They weren’t hit by cars. They died of starvation and thrist.

I know. I’m a buzz kill. But it’s the truth.

So, little food and little profit for livestock owners. Now, Namibia imports a lot of food anyway. Especially fruits and vegetables. But they are now importing foods that normally grow with ease in this country, such as maize.

As I was driving back to school for the first day of term, my Vice Principal mentioned that the government had not yet provided the subsidized maize meal bags for many schools, ours included. While I was wondering why the hell we were opening a hostel school when we couldn’t feed the children living there, I asked why the government was taking so long to give out the food. His answer was that they had to import maize meal from South Africa because Namibia could not produce enough, and the bags had not come through yet.

Never fear. Since then, the school has purchased enough food to get us through until the government food arrives. And I donated some rice and granola to the cause before the emergency stash was purchased.

But I’m wandering off here.

The point is that experiencing a shortage of water reveals itself in a drastic way here. It’s a strain on everyone. Especially those who don’t live in town. Like the nomadic Himba, who travel around to get their water from boreholes, rivers, and whatnot. Some of those boreholes are no longer functioning. All dried up.

Water is life, people. Water is life. (For the record, I am not smoking any illegal substances.)

Anyway, moral is don’t take your water for granted.

The only upside is that I have an excuse for looking like a dirtball.

I’m saving the environment, buddy. Back off.

Rain season should start within the next few months. Let’s hope it puts an end to this drought. This dryness is turning me into a raisin. Or rather a sultana. Because I’m white.

Is that not PC? Alright, unbunch your panties. I like raisins and sultanas equally, people.

But I’m seriously hoping for a good rainstorm soon. For Namibia’s benefit and my own.

I miss a good downpour.